Heart Thief - The Sinister Fairy Tales

“What if she’s not looking to be found? Would you want her coming home if she didn’t want to?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Your father will forgive her if she chooses to return, but it has to be her choice.” She grasps my hands with a squeeze, but I know he won’t forgive her. He plans to cleanse her. Images of past cleansings flicker through my mind. An ache builds in my stomach.

“Please don’t condemn me to live without both my daughters,” she blurts.

“Wha-at?”

“You are both so close, I believe one day she’ll return for you. Promise me you won’t leave me too.”

Is that not my choice? “Mama.”

“Please,” she pleads, her grip turning painful.

Please, Mama, don’t force me stay. I want to scream, but I nod my head instead. “Okay. I promise.” The hole inside me caves in, swallowing me entirely.

Four

Mona

Rain dancing against the house acts as white noise, like I fell asleep with the radio on and woke to the station losing the signal, the buzzing relentless.

Rain usually soothes me, but this is different. There’s an echo in the fallen torrent. Clara.

Her voice grows with the strength of the storm building outside. Her words ricocheting all around. “Mona.”

Blood races through my veins, causing my heart to stammer.

Throwing back the covers, I leap from the bed and go to the window, forcing it up. The wood is old and in need of repair. The creaking makes my stomach ache. What if Daddy hears and thinks I’m sneaking out like her?

I swivel my head toward the door and listen for sounds of our parents. There’s just the rushing of rain and Clara’s voice dancing through the air, penetrating my ears. “Mona.” Her gentle tone whispers through the trees, beckoning me into their embrace.

Da-dum.

The wind howls, tossing my hair around as I climb through the small open space. Mud, thick and damp, squelches through my toes as I find purchase on the wet grass.

Da-dum.

I’ve never snuck out in a storm before, but the pull of my sister’s call is like a string inside my belly tugging me forward.

“Mona…”

I’m coming, Clara. Wait for me, I’m coming.

My feet stumble through the brush, my eyes seeking out my sister. “Clara,” I call back, “where are you?”

Only silence.

Night cloaks the sky, claiming the day and stealing my vision. It’s too dark. “Clara?” I repeat, fear building in my stomach. “Where are you?”

“Mona.” Her hushed murmur hums all around me. My feet begin moving faster, picking up speed through the shadows of the forest. Branches whip and tug at my clothes and flesh like hunters trying to capture their prey. Dark fog unfurls through the clearing, swallowing everything in its wake.

“Clara!” I cry out.

“Mona, help me.” Her scream cracks through the sky like thunder.

My fists curl. I can do this. Facing the thickening fog, I square my shoulders and ready myself. Bending a knee and arching my heel, I take off running toward it.

Shivers explode over my skin as I battle through the darkness. Hands grab at me, trying to drag me into the abyss. I trek on, following her voice. I run and run, my eyes squeezed shut until I feel water surround my feet. My eyes spring open. The shoreline. The stretched ocean ripples in the gentle breeze before me, only…it’s not water. Blood red brushes against the sand, spanning as far as I can see.

A sharp gasp pushes past my lips as I jump back. My heart pounds, manic inside my chest.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

I bolt upright from my bed, panting for breath, my brow beaded with sweat. It was just a dream. Just a dream. A sudden, horrifying sound of an animal wailing jolts my heart. It sounds like thunder booming in my ears, My breathing becomes frantic. I search the darkness for my sister. Her space beside me is cold and empty. My brain stalls, needing a second to catch up with reality.

My eyes track the path to the window. It’s slightly ajar, like all the nights before. I worry my lip with my teeth.

She’s gone.

She’s not coming back.

I can feel it in the marrow of my existence.

Blue and red flashes dance over the ceiling of my room, making patterns appear down the wall. What is happening?

Creeping to the window, I look out. A boat is in the harbor. The lights are blinking, gaining an audience. Police never come to our island. An ache coils in my stomach.

Voices, raised and alarmed, echo through the house, causing nausea to burn the back of my throat. “Clara?” I call out on a whisper.

Attentively, I walk across the room, entering the hallway to listen. The voices become more transparent. The wailing wasn’t an animal at all—it’s my mother.

My feet shuffle across the floor until I’m standing in the living room.

Mother’s at my father’s feet, her hands clinging to the fabric of his pajama bottoms. He’s speaking with two policemen. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen them in real life. On our island, we have our own enforcers. I’ve only seen police officers in drawings and storybooks.